


One Good Day

by randi2204



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: F/M, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-11
Updated: 2012-01-11
Packaged: 2017-10-29 08:35:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/317865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/randi2204/pseuds/randi2204
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spike had a <i>very</i> bad day.  What would constitute a good day? Buffy's got some ideas...</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Good Day

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the community [nekid_spike](http://community.livejournal.com/nekid_spike/profile), for the (then) monthly bad day/good day challenge. While Spike's bad day is recounted, this is very much a _good_ day fic.
> 
> Disclaimer: Not mine, no money, and so on and so forth.

What roused him from slumber was the feel of something tickling his leg.  Spike shifted a little, and it wisped over his thighs.  Then his cock was engulfed in something hot and wet and…

 

“Oh, God!” he gasped, his hips arching up uncontrollably, only to be met with a firm push back down.  Some part of his body protested the movement, but whatever part it was had been completely overridden by the pleasure-seeking rest of him.

 

He both heard and felt her chuckle, and moaned as the sound vibrated around his cock, arousing him further.  Her tongue laved him, wide and flat against the underside of his shaft as she slowly pulled back, until just the tip of his cock was still in her mouth.  She swirled her tongue around the bell-shaped head, dipping into the slit, and he couldn’t contain his moan of pleasure.  One warm hand wrapped around the base of his cock, pumping slowly.

 

Looking down, all he could see was the top of her head and her golden hair nearly covering his groin.  With trembling fingers, he gathered up her long locks, until her face was visible, green eyes sparkling as she peered up at him.  The sight of her lips wrapped around his cock ratcheted his excitement even higher.

 

“Uhhnn… Buffy…”

 

He couldn’t stifle his groan of protest as she let his cock slip out of the hot cavern of her mouth.  “Morning, Spike!” she said, cheery and breathless.  Another swipe of her tongue over the tip and he bucked up in response, panting.  “How are you this fine day?”

 

Before he could even formulate a reply, she dove down onto him again, sucking hard, and he threw his head back against the pillows, pushing up into her mouth as he did.  “Buffy… God!”  His fingers, still threaded through her hair, tightened a little on her scalp and he wanted to pull her down just a little more… wanted so badly…

 

She curled her tongue around him again, then started bobbing up and down, hollowing out her cheeks on every upstroke, until he was teetering on the edge.

 

Something nearly as wet and hot as her mouth touched his leg, rubbing against him a little.  Dimly, though the pleasurable haze her mouth had drawn around him, Spike realized it was her quim, that she was so turned on by getting him off that she needed to get off, too.  It wasn’t anything new, because she’d sucked him off plenty of times, writhing against him like a cat in heat every time, but somehow, it always blew the top of his head off.  Just knowing that she was as aroused by what she was doing as _he_ was…

 

Then her hot little hand turned adventurous, sliding down to cup his sac and massage gently, pressing on the area just behind it…

 

He tightened all over, thrashing a little when her hand braced him down against the bed, and again felt that twinge of pain.  “Gonna… love… ‘m gonna…”

 

Instead of easing off and climbing astride to ride him, as he half-thought she might, she kept her mouth working on his shaft, until the tip of his cock was in her throat.  Then she gave a little hum and swallowed.

 

His climax washed over him and he howled at the intensity, arching up against the pressure of her restraining hand.  She kept working him until he was wrung dry, and he collapsed, panting, against the mattress once more.

 

Buffy crawled up on top of him, kissing his stomach and chest as she went, until she could drape herself carefully over him, tucking her head against his throat.  She straddled one of his thighs, and her knee nudged softly against his balls.  His arms tightened around her as she nuzzled his neck.

 

When his breathing had slowed to match hers, she murmured, “So… you never answered.  How are you?”

 

He chuckled roughly.  “You made it impossible for me to answer, you li’l minx, an’ you know it.”

 

“Did not,” she huffed against his throat, but he could feel the smile curve her lips.

 

Spike pressed up against her, making sure she could feel his renewed erection.  She squirmed and hummed appreciatively.  “But, to answer the question _now_ ,” he purred, running one hand down her back to cup her derriere, “I had one hell of a wake-up call, love. I think I’m doin’ pretty good.”

 

“Good.”  Then she lifted her head to look into his eyes.  “How’s your side?”  Her warm fingers hovered over the rust-stained bandage just below his ribcage on the side opposite of where she lay.

 

That brought his memory of the day before back in a rush, and the deep gash started to ache in earnest.  “Didn’t really hurt until you mentioned it,” he sighed.

 

“Sorry.” She pressed a kiss into the hollow between his collarbones.

 

“You know, you could take my mind off it…” he trailed off suggestively, and met her frown with a leer.

 

She looked at him as if she thought he’d lost his mind, then quickly laid her fingers against the bandage – not forcefully, just applying light pressure.  He hissed as the pain lanced through him, and her face fell.  “I’m sorry, sweetie,” she whispered.  “I overdid it with the… I didn’t mean… I just…”

 

“Finish a sentence for a bloke, love.”  Spike reached up to brush his fingers across her cheek, wincing a little as the movement pulled at his injury.

 

Buffy took a deep breath, and he was surprised to see tears glistening in her eyes.  However, what she said was unexpected.  “Yesterday was a pretty horrible day.”

 

He snorted.  “Understatement of the year,” he muttered.

 

And really, that wasn’t so far-fetched.  About the only thing that _hadn’t_ gone wrong was getting into a fight with Buffy.  Tiffs they had and frequently, and tiffs were all right, since they usually led right to fabulous make-up sex, but _fights_ meant hours of cold looks and colder shoulders.

 

Of course, yesterday they hadn’t even had a mild disagreement, never mind anything that would have meant someone making something up to someone else through sex.  Just one more thing that hadn’t really gone right.

 

His day had started with tripping over something at the top of the stairs and nearly impaling himself on the newel post at the bottom, and it had just gone downhill from there.  The blood had inexplicably gone off and there wasn’t an open butcher shop on a Sunday to get more.  He’d lost every bit of his usual grace and nearly stumbled into sunlight so many times it was a wonder he wasn’t dust.  Dawn had been constantly yammering about the boys at university, until his head was throbbing.  Angel had come to call as well.

 

And those were just the highlights.

 

By the time Peaches had gone, it was time for patrol, and he was really in dire need of a bit of violence.  Still, he could see from the doubtful look in Buffy’s eyes that she was considering asking him to stay home – probably for _her_ safety as much as his own.  She said nothing when he grabbed his battle-axe, though, and just followed him as he stormed out the door.

 

The blade of the battle-axe had broken off and stuck into the ground while they were fighting that ugly tosser of a demon.  When he had roared and gone in for hand-to-claw, the demon had thrown him off and he landed – _as I should have expected,_ he thought, _given how_ lovely _the day had been to that point_ – on the broken blade, opening the gouge in his side.  When he’d waded back into the fray to help the Slayer, the demon had smeared him with some kind of putrid goo that had, of course, gotten into his wound.

 

Buffy moved, startling him out of his reverie.  She lay carefully against him once more, her heat familiar and soothing.  “I’m sorry,” she said again, and her breath washed warm over his neck.

 

“Not your fault, pet.  Nothing that happened yesterday was your fault.”

 

“Yeah, I know… but that doesn’t mean I can’t be sorry you had such a lousy day.”  This was accompanied by a feather-light kiss against his throat, and he tightened his arm around her.

 

After a moment of silence, he asked, “Got a chance for any blood?”

 

She shook her head.  “I sent Dawn out for some, but it’s still kind of early. I just…” She stopped, and let her fingers swirl over his pectorals.

 

“You just what?”

 

She sighed gustily.  “I was wigged.  You were lying all still and dead-like, and I was kinda freaked, ‘cause that’s _so_ not you.  So I decided to wake you up, and I make with the _way_ over-enthusiastic blow-job, and…”

 

“Not complaining here, love!”

 

At that, she stopped rambling.  “You wouldn’t,” she replied, mock-grumbling, even though he could feel her smiling against him.

 

“You know me so well, Slayer.”

 

After another minute, Buffy sat up.  “Would you like some breakfast?”

 

Spike just stared up at her, puzzled.  “I thought you said Dawn… or… you cooked?”

 

“In a manner of speaking…” She flushed bright red, then tilted her head to one side and ran a hand down her throat in blatant offering.  “I was thinking you might want some breakfast in bed… something to kick-start the healing process, and I’ve got the best right here on tap…”

 

As he stared at her, mouth agape, she straightened up and started to babble again.  “And… well, you probably won’t be interested in… in what I had planned for later, being all with the ouchies, so I’ll call everyone and tell them not to come, and we’ll try it again some other time.  Maybe tomorrow you’ll feel better, more like having company, you know, besides just me and Dawn, and they can all come then, and…”

 

“Hold on a bit, love, my head’s startin’ to spin.  What are you talkin’ about?”

 

If possible, she flushed even brighter, and stared down at her hands, once again making circles on his chest and arm.  “I… I did some snooping… and discovered when your real birthday is.”

 

 _Stunned_ didn’t even begin to cover it.  “You did what?”

 

Wincing a little at what sounded like the displeasure in his voice, she started talking faster, as if hoping to get it all out before he exploded.  “I just wanted to find out when it was!  And I had Wills help me, so she knew when it was, too, and she told Dawnie, and the next thing I know, they’re talking me into a surprise party when all I wanted was to find out so I could do a little something for you, and then I got to thinking about it, and decided it might be nice to do something special…”

 

“Buffy, love, look at me.”

 

Slowly, as if dreading what she might see, she did, and was clearly taken aback by his huge grin.  “You… you’re not mad?” she asked, her voice shaded with hope.

 

Again, Spike reached up to caress her cheek.  “Hell, no.” Then the words lodged in his throat, and he couldn’t make himself say how very touched he was that she and her mates had gone to the trouble.

 

Somehow, though, she knew.  Leaning into his touch, she kissed his palm.  “So… that’s a go with holding off on the party ‘till tomorrow?”

 

He levered himself to a sitting position, leaning back against the headboard, watching her scramble to prop him up with pillows, and waited for the blazing pain in his side to fade back to the dull embers of ache.  “Yeah, I’d say that’d be the best,” he answered at last, voice tight.

 

She said nothing, just cuddled in close to him, resting her head on his shoulder and letting her fingers trace aimless patterns on his chest again.  He kept running his hand through her hair and just soaking up her warmth.

 

“So, pet, when you first came up with this birthday idea, before the party, what were you thinkin’ of?”

 

“Oh, I had a plan.”  She nodded.  “Big plan.  Good plan.  You’d have really liked it.”

 

He smirked.  “You _know_ the kind of plan I would have _really_ liked.”

 

She laughed softly and nuzzled his neck.  “Well, spending the day in bed _was_ a big part of that plan…”

 

“Well, we’re in bed now… might as well make the most of it.”  He adopted the sexiest, most smoldering look he had in his repertoire, and was rewarded when she carefully crawled astride his lap once more.

 

“I hope you like your present,” she breathed against his cheek.  “Sorry I didn’t have time to wrap it…”

 

His lips immediately descended to her throat, and his hands settled on her hips.  “S’all right, pet,” he mouthed against her skin, and delighted in her shiver.  “I like you better all unwrapped…”

 

Hours later, as Buffy trailed her fingers lazily through his hair, her body lax and sated and wrapped around him, Spike rubbed his cheek against her stomach and said, “So, love, I get pressies like this every birthday?”

 

“Hmmm.” Buffy tried to gather her clearly scattered thoughts.  “Yeah.  Every birthday.  If you want.”

 

He licked around her navel and purred, “Sounds like every day is my birthday, then.”

 

***

August 20, 2007


End file.
